After deciding to make amends with Greg, Ryan and Colin arrived at the hotel. Ryan sidled up to one of the staff in the lobby and asked which room Mr Proops was in. The staff member remarked how popular he seemed to be as she gave Ryan the room number.

“The others must be back here as well,” Ryan announced in the elevator.

“Oh, why do you say that? Colin asked.

“The girl says he’s already had visitors,” Ryan replied as the doors clunked open.

“That’s good. We can tell them our idea then,” Colin nodded.

They approached Greg’s hotel room door and Colin knocked. There was no response.

“Come on Greg…wake up,” Ryan called.

Still there was nothing.

“Hey look, it’s open,” Colin pointed out, pushing the door open.

They stepped into the room and scanned it.

“Maybe he went out and forgot to lock his door,” Colin shrugged.

“Without his glasses?” Ryan breathed, appearing from the bathroom with Greg’s dark rimmed specs. “The shower is still running and his clothes are untouched,” he added.

“Oh my god! Ryan, what if something bad has happened to Greg?” Colin gasped.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious, I had thought of that,” Ryan scorned.

Colin looked around the room frantically yelling, “GREG.” When he stopped there was a quiet tapping noise.

“Where the hell is that coming from?” Colin shrieked.

“THE WARDROBE,” Ryan screamed, dashing over and flinging the doors open.

Greg was tied, gagged, damp, and butt naked.

“Oh man, put some clothes on,” Ryan cringed as he removed the gag.

“Fuck you and your stupid ideas,” Greg panted.

“Well there’s gratitude for you,” Ryan hissed.

“What happened?” Colin asked, giving Greg his glasses and helping him to his feet.

“That BITCH stuck a knife at my throat,” Greg babbled as he pulled some clothes on. “If the god damn maid hadn’t come in she probably – no, not probably – she DEFINITELY would have KILLED ME.”

“Ritza was here?” Ryan gasped.

“No, Hilary Clinton. Who do you think, dumbass,” Greg snapped. “She knows we’re here and she wants us dead.”

“Now who’s got their grumpy bootums on,” Ryan retorted.

“GUYS, CALM DOWN,” Colin yelled.

“Oh, I’ll calm down, right after twelve vodkas and intense psychotherapy,” Greg hissed.

Brad, Wayne and Chip reached a barbed wire fence and stopped.

“Now what?” Chip panted.

“Well, we have two choices: we can either risk the barbed wire, or get shot by the two psychopaths who have gotten out of their cars and are aiming.”

Chip dove over the fence, Brad followed and Wayne was almost over when he got caught…on the crotch of his pants.

“Shit, I’m caught! Helpmehelpmehelpme,” Wayne squealed.

Brad and Chip unhooked Wayne from the barbed wire, leaving a gaping hole in his pants.

“You ripped my pants, man,” Wayne grumbled.

“That’s hardly an…” Brad’s voice trailed off as a bullet sailed past.

They upped their speed and headed into another field that was on a hill. Chip tripped up, knocked Wayne, who tumbled into Brad, and they all rolled to the bottom of the hill, stopping in a messy heap.

“Ow…I think I broke something,” Brad groaned.

“Come on, get up, we gotta keep going,” Wayne announced, hurrying to his feet.

“Why the rush? I think we lost them,” Chip breathed.

“It’s not them I’m worried about,” Wayne said, going wide-eyed, “it’s that big pissed-off looking bull.”

There was a unified scream and a dash to the end of the field. They were happy to find themselves at a road, and even luckier a car was coming along. They hailed it and waited for it to slow down.

“Oh Christ,” Brad breathed.

“Now we’re in trouble,” Wayne sighed.

“Only we could hail the rest of Ritza’s heavies,” Chip wailed, dropping to his knees.